“If space is the field for memory, and if memory is the basis of our narrative self-invention, then we must live in some seam between inside and outside, some corridor between the place we make and the place that makes us.”
Richard Powers

The landscape of South Dakota feels like forever. The expanses are stark and severe, simple yet overwhelming. Endless horizons can fuel hope and happiness, but they can also feed a seed of loneliness and isolation, negating the warm feelings expected when thinking about home. The vast space of the land is something I cannot quite embrace, break free from, or understand, but it provides infinite inspiration. It is home, kept at arms-length.


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 

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